


Ganymede

by KuraNova



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Growing Up, Intrigue, M/M, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, War, Young!Clarus, Young!Regis, being a dumb hotheaded punk, young!Cor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraNova/pseuds/KuraNova
Summary: Cor stood at the edge of the sea wall, a strong morning gale buffeting his cheeks to a ruddy complexion as the steady march of a rising sun shone gold in his short hair. His suit was stained and bloody, a night’s worth of dirt and grime and filth making the fabric stick to his skin and cling to the dry, almost numb joints of his fingers.“Your Majesty!” he called, growling in frustration at nothing but static buzzing over the radio. “Clarus! Goddamnit, answer me!”An Imperial airship screamed overhead, engines warbling a deafening death knell over Insomnia.He could not stand here forever, hoping to hear a familiar voice call back to him.There was yet another Lucian King that needed him, and he'd not fail Regis a second time.Never. And still he could not help the flood of memories threatening to drag him into the void of despair.





	Ganymede

**Author's Note:**

> I'm breaking rank! I'll be letting Promptis rest for a hot minute while I indulge myself with three of my favorite NPCs because I can't help myself. If you've come over from my other fics, it's nice to see you again! And if you're new, welcome!  
> I hope you all enjoy this foray into Rarepair land with me!
> 
> FYI: Obviously this fic begins with the fall of Insomnia and that entire tragedy. If you don't like this, then this story is probably not for you.

Early Morning, 17th of May, M.E. 756

 

Cor stood at the edge of the sea wall, a strong morning gale buffeting his cheeks to a ruddy complexion as the steady march of a rising sun shone gold in his short hair. His suit was stained and bloody, a night’s worth of dirt and grime and filth making the fabric stick to his skin and cling to the dry, almost numb joints of his fingers. He’d been gripping his sword so tightly for so long, focused on helping people flee the crown city, that when he had finally released the hilt of his weapon he could _feel_ his bones creaking inside his hands.

“Your Majesty!” he called, growling in frustration at nothing but static buzzing over the radio.

The cold chill that had settled over Leide in the night sank into his skin and down to his boots, and his hands were shaking as he desperate flipped channels on his radio and on his phone to hear a sign from someone, _anyone_ , that the king was safe. At least, he would _say_ it was the cold. Admitting to feeling the creeping dread making its way down to his quaking knees was impossible. He could not succumb to a show of weakness, even if there were none around to witness it.

“Clarus! Goddamnit, answer me!”

He flipped channels again. “Your High- _Regis_ , if this is some kind of joke I-.” Cor cut himself off with his hesitation, eyes drinking in the destruction of the Crown City from where he stood across the narrow straight. It was no joke, he knew, but how could he _possibly_ believe the king, his best friend, his _lover_ was dead?

Facing harsh realities was something he was used to, something he was trained to handle often and without complaint. No one could have ever prepared him for this feeling of gutted emptiness, and the crushing solitary weight of it threatened to send him tumbling down the sea wall and into the rough, dark waters below.

An Imperial airship screamed overhead, engines warbling a deafening death knell over Insomnia.

“ _Cor?_ ”

He scrambled for his radio, punching the line button with so much force the plastic casing creaked. “Monica?”

“ _Thank the Astrals! Where are you? I’ve just gotten out of the city.”_

A series of earth shaking booms echoed out across the water, and as Cor looked up he could see the airship flying over a huge cloud of dust and debris. The wall prevented him from seeing the city proper, but he could imagine the damage Insomnia was sustaining at the hands of legions of magitek troopers and that _beast_ alike.

“Tell me exactly where you are coming from, and I’ll meet you halfway. Imperial troops are swarming the roads.”

As he turned away from the sight of his home to go help his friend, Cor hoped the next time he looked, he would still see the bright spire of the Citadel shining out at him, calling him back home like it always had.

 

* * *

M.E. 718

 

Prince Regis was _beautiful_. Cor was sure of this, even at the tender age of seven, when he first saw the prince, crushed between the other children his age as they stood on the side of the road to watch the royal procession drive by. The sweltering heat that had beads of sweat running down Cor’s temples seemed ineffective against Regis, as even in a heavy, stuffy suit he appeared at ease in the topless vehicle sitting next to his father, the king. As the motorcade slowly rolled by, Cor found himself leaning forward into the street, strong-arming the children beside him to catch another glimpse of the prince.

“Hey! Watch it!”

The boy he’d moved aside had shoved him back, and Cor, stocky and solid, had barely moved from the effort. “Sorry,” he murmured instead, refusing to give up his new view allowing him to see down the road as the prince got farther and farther away.

“How old is Prince Regis?” he asked later that night as he sat at the dinner table with his parents, barefoot and a little dusty from playing outside. He was picking the crusted dirt out from beneath his fingernails, trying for all the world to appear disinterested in the topic he had brought up.

Regis didn’t look like any of his friends. He was scrubbed clean all the time, and he wore clothes that had no holes in them that looked like they might cost more than Cor’s dinner, and Cor supposed the prince also didn’t get glares from his mother when he was scoring grime from beneath his nails all over the freshly washed dinner table.

“With soap!” Cor’s mother called, cuffing him on the head affectionately as Cor slipped down from his chair and wandered over to the kitchen sink. “He’s not much older than you, I think. Five years or so.”

Was that all? Cor thought. The prince seemed so ethereal and otherworldly, almost like the pictures of those angels he saw every week on the way to the Draconian’s temple.

“Did you get to see him today?” his mother asked.

Cor nodded, watching the water in the sink turn brown after touching his skin, and decided he was better safe than sorry taking the bar of soap all the way up to his elbows.

“It’s in the news,” Cor’s father added, pointing to a picture of the motorcade printed onto the front page of the newspaper he had been reading. “The Prince took a tour of Insomnia for his twelfth birthday.”

Cor glanced up, shaking out his wet arms, missing the sink, and splattering water all over the kitchen counter, nevermind the puddle he was standing in. “Is that what princes do for their birthdays?” he asked, curious.

Cor always had a party for his birthday. His mother would bake him a cake from their leftover flour and sugar, and he and his friends would play tag in the street until the sun had gone down. Because it was Cor’s birthday, he always got the first pick for teams, and sometimes, if he was really lucky, he would even get a present. This year he had only been given the cake his mother had made him, but that was more than enough for him. Cake always tasted better than socks or a new shirt anyway.

“Who knows?” his mother replied, waving at him to sit back down at the table before she tossed a rag onto the floor to mop up the tiny sea of sink water flooding her kitchen. “I’ve certainly never been a prince.”

“Here.” Once Cor had sat, his father slid the paper across the table, the black and white photo of Regis smiling out from his father’s car at him clearer than it had been before. “You can read the article on it. Take it in to school for your show and tell.”

That sounded like a grand idea, if Cor wasn’t so awful at reading. Well, Cor was awful at everything in school really, except sports. But reading was his worst skill. He could never quite get letters to sound right when he read them aloud, and sometimes he’d miss them altogether because the spacing in print was so hard to figure out. He really didn’t understand how everyone else in his class could read something so complicated. It might as well be code to him. Cor’s teachers had spoken to his father about his deficiency, claiming that he wouldn’t ever be good at anything if he couldn’t read.

So, Cor just avoided reading altogether. He didn’t want his parents to worry about him just because he couldn’t read _Little Red Riding Hood_ very well. How was that stupid story supposed to help him when he got older anyway? But now, with the article about Regis in front of him, he desperately wished he _could_ read. He wanted to know more about the prince, even if it was just facts he could probably get by just asking someone.

“Have you looked into what sport you’re going to play this year?” his mother asked, setting down a plate of canned vegetables and some type of meat Cor couldn’t identify as she effectively changed the course of conversation. “The center says they’re only offering for wrestling and swimming.”

Cor shook his head that he had not at all looked into it.

His mother sighed. “Well you better choose quickly. I have to put your name on the sign up sheet by Friday.”

“What do we have to buy for them?” His father asked. “It isn’t going to be like last year with all of the helmets and shoulder pads, is it?”

Cor pushed his vegetables around on his plate as he listened to his parents speak, eyes drifting back toward the picture of the smiling prince.

“I did ask. Wrestling would be cheaper in the long run. All we have to get is the uniform.”

“Then wrestling it is,” his father decided, then digging into his dinner without another word on the subject.

School was over for several weeks before Cor attended his first wrestling practice. He wandered into the rec. Center gym and was greeted by a smiling, big-bellied man wearing a ballcap and a whistle, who spoke with a booming voice that Cor thought might fell a Zu if he aimed it right.

“Welcome, son!” He grabbed Cor’s hand before he could reply, shaking it up and down like he was was trying to wrench it free from his arm. “Take a seat along the blue line at the far end of the gym. We’ll get started once everyone’s here.”

Cor only nodded and walked further into the huge echoing space to take a seat where he was supposed to. There was a boy sitting next to him, who perked at Cor’s approach. He was far taller than Cor was, even sitting down, and dressed in all black with dark hair and a white, toothy smile. Awkwardly, Cor tried to return the gesture, but it felt forced. He hadn’t been expecting to be welcomed so warmly.

“Hey! You’re new here, right? Don’t think I’ve seen your face before.”

Cor nodded, tried smiling again, and this time it fet a bit more natural. “This is my first day. I only take these classes in the summer.” He omitted the fact that his parents forced him into community center summer programs every year because they couldn’t afford a nanny or a babysitter.

The other boy grinned. “That makes sense!” He reached out his hand. “My name’s Clarus. What’s yours?”

Cor reached over to grab Clarus’ hand and shook once. “Cor Leonis.”

“Say, you’ve got a nice grip. You’ll do good your first day.”

“You think so? I’ve never tried wrestling before.”

“Well no sense in doubting if you’ve never tried, right?”

“Guess so,” Cor chuckled, finding Clarus to be an easy boy to get along with. He was older than Cor, or at least he looked it, about twice his height and with a voice that sounded more like a man’s than a boy’s.

“Do you go to Emerson Primary?” Cor asked. He knew just about every kid in his neighborhood and he was sure he’d never seen Clarus before.

“Nah, I go to Cedarwood.”

Cor cocked his head. “The private school?”

“That’s the one,” Clarus chuckled. “My dad wanted me to take this class there, but all the kids who sign up are rich wusses who can’t take being pinned to a mat. Hurts their dignity, I guess.”

Cor didn’t know about any of that, but from the way Clarus spoked, he was ready to believe him.

The pair of them continued speaking until the class started, and the remainder of Cor’s day was spent learning to stretch correctly, how to put on safety equipment, and finally walking out basic grabbing maneuvers with a partner. Clarus had been assigned to teach him most of the basics while the teacher supervised the more experienced students, and Cor couldn’t have asked for a better teacher. Clarus was patient, and ready to explain things more than one way if Cor became confused or had questions. By the time the session ended, Cor was eager for more.

He and Clarus stood outside on the curb, sun slipping behind the edifice of the community center to cast them in shadow.

“You have to go for it tomorrow with those grabs,” Clarus lectured, though Cor was a willing student. “If you hesitate you might miss your chance, or leave yourself open for your opponent to knock you.”

Cor nodded, watching a sleek black car turn into the parking lot. “What if I accidentally scratch them, though?”

Clarus shrugged, working his gym bag higher up over his broad shoulder. “That’s part of the sport, you know? Sometimes accident happen. It’s like tripping and getting a skinned knee. No biggie. But cut your nails when you get home, just to be safe.”

Cor nodded again. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

The black car swung around into the pick-up lane, and slowed to a stop in front of where he and Clarus stood. The paint was so shiny Cor could see his reflection in the door before it swung open. “Hey Clarus! Jared said I could tag along to come pick you up today!”

Cor was not expecting the owner of that exuberant voice to pop out of the back seat like a jack-in-the-box, nor was he expecting it to be the _prince_.

“Hey, Reggie, can you get my bag for me?” Clarus replied, looking for all the world like this was a daily occurrence for him.

“Certainly,” the prince replied, taking the gym bag from Clarus and shoving it gracelessly into the trunk of the car.

“Hey, might want to get ahold of that jaw before it runs away,” Clarus smirked, speaking to Cor.

He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

“You ever meet Reggie before?” he spoke again.

 _Met him?_ Who did Clarus think he was? Cor was a commoner. He played in the dirt barefoot with sticks and rocks while nobles sat around perfectly trimmed lawns and gossiped. At least that’s what his mother said they did. A person of Cor’s social standing could never even dream of meeting the prince one day.

“Uh,” he squeaked, scrambling for a reply that wouldn’t make him sound ridiculous, “no?”

Clarus only nodded. “Thought so. Hey, Your Royal Pain in My Ass, come over and meet Cor.”

“The name calling is so unnecessary, Clarus,” the prince sighed, but smiled at Cor as he closed the trunk of the car and walked over to shake his hand.

Cor’s brain had stopped functioning. His heart was pounding so quickly it felt like it would hammer right out of his chest. A bit belatedly, he squeezed the prince’s hand in return. “H-hello, Your Majesty.”

“Do you take classes with Clarus, then?” The prince asked, unfazed by Cor’s numb tongue.

Cor cleared his throat. “Yeah. Wrestling.”

“Just the sort of pastime I would expect from an Amicitia,” Regis mused before smiling at Cor again. “We must be off, though. It was a pleasure meeting you, Cor. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

The two boys piled into the backseat, already deep in a conversation Cor didn’t understand half of. As the car drove off, exiting the lane to pull into traffic, Cor clenched his hand tightly to his chest and wondered when his heart would stop pounding.

He was still frozen at the curb when his mother arrived to pick him up.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to RedHawkeRevolver who helped me brainstorm this monster. <3


End file.
